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They had made it up and she had told herself that it was silly to feel so hurt, but now they were quarrelling again.
It had been tempting this morning to admit to him that she didn’t want to go to the cremation, but Ryan had warned her against letting her emotions get in the way of doing her job properly. He had also let it slip that some of the other partners felt he was taking a risk in allowing her so much responsibility and that they had felt he should have appointed a man to head the team, with her as second in command.
She now felt honour-bound to prove to them that she was up to the job, not just for her own sake but for Ryan’s as well.
She had wanted to explain all this to Mark but his attitude had made it impossible for her to confide in him. It hurt her that he couldn’t be a little more understanding, that he couldn’t seem to see how important it was to her that she prove herself, and how much she needed his support and approval.
Ryan came into her office just as she had finished making arrangements to see the bank. He smiled at her as she replaced the receiver and said softly, ‘I like the suit. Black looks good on you.’
As his glance flickered over her, Deborah suspected that it wasn’t only her smartly cut black business suit that he was envisaging her in. Ryan would definitely be the black underwear, stockings and suspender type, she acknowledged, but she let his slow, sensual appraisal of her pass without comment, saying meekly, ‘I’m due at the crematorium at two; it seemed the right thing to wear.’
‘Ah, yes… pity… I was going to suggest you join me for lunch. I’m seeing Harry Turner, the bank’s regional director, and I thought it would give you an opportunity to do a bit of networking.’
Deborah shook her head with genuine regret, half hoping he would suggest that she give the crematorium a miss, but he didn’t. If he had done, would she have told Mark the truth or would she have let him assume that she had not gone because he had not wanted her to? She frowned. Why should she need to employ such deceit? She and Mark had always been totally honest with one another.
Mark saw Ryan leaving Deborah’s office. He had been on his way there himself to apologise for his surliness this morning, but now he abruptly changed his mind.
He had never liked Ryan; he admitted that freely. There was something about the man, about his attitude to life and to other people, that irked him. Ryan, while paying lip-service to the views and opinions of others, nevertheless still managed to betray an arrogance and lack of consideration for any viewpoint but his own which left Mark breathless… and envious?
No, of course not. But he was aware that in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of his peers here at work, according to the ancient code of male approval he would be judged inferior to Ryan.
Ryan was a swaggering, macho buccaneer of a man who, despite the fact that modern conditioning demanded that his male peers disapprove of him for those traits, still, because of those very characteristics, secretly appealed to a part of the male instinct.
And the female? Did Deborah perhaps secretly despise him and wish he were more like Ryan?
Mark frowned. Was it really Deborah’s contempt that he feared, or his own? Was it in her eyes that he feared comparison with Ryan, or his?
His thoughts were too uncomfortable to pursue; they opened up a vein of insecurity and weakness within himself from which he instinctively retreated.
As he walked back into his own office he almost bumped into the girl coming out. He frowned as she dimpled a smile at him, wondering who she was. She had a small, curvy figure and the confidence to show it off, amusement lightening her eyes as she saw him studying her.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised wryly.
‘Don’t be,’ she responded unexpectedly. ‘I was enjoying it.’
She had gone before he could make any further retort, the scent of her perfume lingering behind her.
* * *
‘A computer? And just how the hell are we supposed to afford that?’
Sally gave an exasperated sigh as she heard the anger in Joel’s voice, intervening, ‘Don’t bother your dad with that now, love. We’ll talk about it later.’
She waited until Paul had left the kitchen before turning to Joel and asserting, ‘There was no need to be like that with him. He was only asking. Have you heard anything yet about the factory?’
‘If I had, don’t you think I’d have told you?’ he responded irritably.
Sally gritted her teeth. She knew how worried he was, but didn’t he realise how difficult he was making it for her… for all of them… with his moodiness and bad temper? It wasn’t their fault that he might be going to lose his job.
Guiltily she looked away from him. She had tried to be sympathetic, but she had her own problems. Sister was pressuring her to work more hours on a regular basis but she was already overstretched, trying to keep things organised at home and working as well. And Joel didn’t help.
‘Do you have to leave your things all over the place?’ she demanded crossly now as she glared at the jacket he had dropped carelessly on the table.
‘It wouldn’t be there if Paul hadn’t stopped me to pester me about his damned computer,’ Joel growled back. ‘It would be on my back and I’d have been out from under your feet. It’s really good to know how much I’m wanted in my own home.’
‘Well, it’s your own fault,’ Sally responded defensively. ‘If you weren’t so bad-tempered all the time, snapping at the kids for no reason, behaving like…’
‘Like what?’ he challenged her. ‘Like a man who’s about to lose his job and doesn’t know where the hell his next wage packet is coming from or if there’s going to be one?’
